


tomorrow there'll be more of us

by arpeggioschuyler



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Drabble, F/M, M/M, Oneshot, john dies basically, or it could be read as modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpeggioschuyler/pseuds/arpeggioschuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He turns away from Eliza, listens to the familiar crinkle of her opening the envelope, and then she starts. “On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina.” Alex's heart stops.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	tomorrow there'll be more of us

**Author's Note:**

> what it says on the tin,,,,,,,,
> 
> have fun 
> 
> basically my interpretation of tomorrow there'll be more of us :(

Alex is so delighted about the birth of his first child that he doesn't even hear Eliza come up behind him. He's sitting on a stool, face alight with joy, knowing his son— his son, dammit, little Phillip Hamilton, his pride and joy— is in the cradle just a few metres away.

“Alexander,” Eliza starts, but Alex doesn't turn, waiting for her to finish her sentence. “There's a letter for you.”

Now, Alex glances over, looks at the familiar envelope she's holding, and his smile becomes wry. “It's from John Laurens, I'll read it later.” He responds shortly, knowing that his Laurens' letters shouldn't be read so near to his Eliza.

Eliza swallows. “No. It's from his father.”

“His father?” He and Henry Laurens have never gotten along. There is no need for Henry to be writing him unless something terrible has occurred. Alex sucks in a breath. “Could you read it?”

He turns away from Eliza, listens to the familiar crinkle of her opening the envelope, and then she starts. “ _On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina._ ” Alex's heart stops. He pales. No. _No_. This couldn't be true. The war, the war was—

“ _The war was already over. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all black military regiment. His dream of freedom for these men die with him_.” The last phrase echoes in his mind, but altered. His dream dies with him. Alex knows he's been living on borrowed time, but not John. John was supposed to have more time. John was supposed to live to see their glory. John was supposed to complete his goal. But every day, there will be more dead soldiers, although the war is already over. Tomorrow, there'll be even more of them, and soon… soon Alex could join them. Alex could die without completing his goal.

“Alexander,” It's Eliza again, and her voice sounds distant, but he can feel the pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Alex is barely breathing. He knows he needs to answer, but the world is spinning around him, but the world should stop, because John's gone. John Laurens is gone, John Laurens is dead. Alex had begged him, in his last letter, to set his sword down and join him. Did he even receive that letter? _Affectionately yours_? His vision blurs with tears. He hears a strangled voice choke out, “I have so much work to do” and belatedly realizes it's him.

He feels the pressure leave from his shoulder and the sounds of Eliza leaving him in peace. There's a tightness in his chest and his mind is buzzing. He needs to work. He looks over to Phillip in his bassinet, just a few metres away, but then sees something— someone— that should not be there.

John Laurens stands there, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, with a solemn expression but looking as though he has a million things to say. He's clothed in white uniform, standing rigid, and Alex stares desperately into those green eyes, unable to move or breathe or—

John regards him carefully, and then says, quietly and mournfully, “Tomorrow there'll be more of us.” Alex knows, god, he knows, and that just gives him more incentive to work and live and make a change before his time is up.

John turns, breaking the eye contact, and Alex watches as he leans over baby Phillip's cradle, and then, he slowly fades out until Alex is unsure if he was really there at all.

Alex moves over to Phillip's cradle, in the same position John had just occupied, and leans over, looking at Phillip. Somehow, his son reminds him of John Laurens, with that familiar spark in his eyes. He can hear John's voice echoing in his ears— “Tomorrow there'll be more of us”.

He turns away from Phillip and moves to his desk. He has so much work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> ok the staging is probs inaccurate but guess who's seeing it tomorrow night???!!!!?!!?! ME!!!!!! im so hype!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
